Dedicated to all the soldiers who die for us, as a world. - 2nd March 2006

Of war.

Barbed spirit killing dignity,


But in honour, It bellows.


It swallows the blood stained grass.


It causes provoked bombing,


An amulet of silver discovery;


Innocent, deadly.


The blood spits itself from it’s home,


Far away but still with its name.


Trenches open its jagged mouth,


Crimson gums, and diseased.


The grounding of a noble man;


Indeed he cuts his foot


On the coral like bone.


Sparks of spitfire like killer bees,


Piercing and stapling itself


To a choice of tender fabric.


To the cause of much agony,


With targeted focus;

It tortures.

Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 728 times
Written on 2006-03-02 at 19:13

Tags Dignity  War 

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Wonderful poem--a great tribute to all in the services.